Harry Potter and the Wizard of Oz
by N. Echelons
Summary: Harry finds himself in a wonderful world befitting a children's novel. A land of beauty and perhaps a bit less magic and villainy than what he's used to. Harry must follow the Golden Road to the Philosopher's Stone City. Based on the Oz book, not movie.
1. The Council with the House Elves

Do not even question it, just read it and appreciate all it's clever parallels and revel in my glory. You wish you were this cool. So without further ado. No ado at all. I wouldn't want to but a damper on how awesome this is by delaying you from reading it so **IT'S GOING TO START RIGHT NOW.**

...

Ok, but really, right now. Go.

~*~_**HARRY POTTER AND THE WIZARD OF OZ**_~*~

A sudden jarring knocked Harry awake. He had been sleeping on a hardwood floor so there wasn't anything to soften the impact except for his knees and elbows.

"Ow buggery, ow," Harry said, as a painful tingling sensation shot up his arms and legs. He rolled onto his back to wallow in self-pity and angst for a good minute or two. There were small indents in his face from the spaces between planks of the wood he had been sleeping on. Although angsty, Harry had become accustomed to it enough to multitask. Somewhere between thoughts of dead parents, a horrible aunt and uncle, Snape and **HOW EVERYTHING BAD HAPPENED TO HIM**; Harry also managed to ask himself, "Why the hell am I in the Shrieking Shack?."

Harry couldn't remember exactly what it was he was doing in the Shrieking Shack or before he got there, but his watch informed him that it was mid-afternoon and he was missing his classes. Hedwig (appearing out of nowhere) was in tow. Harry spent five minutes feeling around, knocking on the wood floor, and _prodding things with his wand_, but absolutely could not find the latch. Then, after an uncharacteristic stroke of genius, he tried the front door. It was locked.

"Alohomora," he said, flicking his wand. The front door opened just like magic.

What Harry saw next shocked and astounded him. _SHOCKED AND ASTOUNDED_. All he could see was a land worthy of a children's novel. Grassy fields invaded by flowers of every colour of the spectrum (_some infrared and ultraviolet_), trees with fruits that shouldn't logically grow in the same geographical location, and every beautiful species of bird. No ugly birds, like turkeys or vultures. Belch.

"Hedwig, I don't think we're in Hogwarts anymore."

(If Hedwig could have responded she would've said, "Well no duh.")

Harry became entranced by a particularly beautiful, fiery-red bird until Hedwig nipped him in the ear and he noticed a strange crowd forming. They were small and funny looking, er, _things_, that had huge eyes and long sticky-out ears. Four approached Harry. There were three males and one female as far as Harry could tell. He'd never been gifted at judging other species' gender. The creatures were dressed oddly. They wore things like tea cosies and pillows as clothing. In fact, the only clothing they wore that was _actually_ considered _actual_ clothing were horribly mismatched socks. As for colour, all their _"clothes"_ were mostly crimson red.

When the four approaching were only a few feet away they stopped and whispered, high-pitchedly to each-other. Soon, one stepped forward.

"You are most welcomed here in the land of house elves, great wizard sir. We are very grateful to you sir, for having killed our horrible mistress, the Wicked Witch of the East, Bellatrix. You set us free from our slavery sir." The elf strained to get the parts about how horrible his former mistress was out, and as soon as he finished he ran to the side of the house and started to head-butt it.

Harry was embrangled by this house elf thing. How had he/she/it know he was a wizard? He wasn't _brandishing his wand_ at them or anything. And he didn't recall killing anyone either.

"Er, I think you're mistaken," he told the elves, "I haven't killed anyone."

"Pardon me sir, but your house did anyway. And that is the same thing sir! See?"

The house elf gestured to two feet poking out from under the house, clad in a pair of rather *~*~_awesome_~*~*looking sneakers.

"Oh, er... oops. So who was she?"

"The Wicked Witch of the East, sir," the house elf said slowly so Harry would understand this time.

"And uh...you're house elves?"

"They most certainly are. Poor house elves, having to do such dreadful, constant, work for that horrible women," said a rather huffy girl. She had joined the three remaining conscious elves, carrying an abused book-bag that was straining to hold it's contents. Her hair was a brown mess of utter madness. Someone needed to avoid humidity and discover product.

"My name is Hermione. I am the Good Witch of the North and the representative for house elf kind and president of the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare. And you are?"

"Um, Harry Potter?"

"Charmed. The elves sent me an owl with the news of you killing the Wicked Witch of the East. I would have done something about her myself but I am not nearly powerful enough," the Good Witch Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"How many witches are there then?" Harry asked.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, "Well four, one for each compass direction. The other Good Witch is of the South, but she's a bit off if you ask me, she claims that her land is that of the Crumple Horned Snorkacks, which are a load of rubbish. And now there's only one Wicked Witch, well Wizard actually, that of the West."

Harry's blood ran cold. "Voldemort?"

Hermione looked confused. "I do not know of this Voldemort person, the Wicked Wizard of the West doesn't really have a set name. He can't quite find one that's satisfying. Last week I believe he was Lo, I am Lord Tom Vador but now he's Evil Lord Doom Mart. Rather unfortunate if you ask me. I believe his real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle and he's just not doing a very good job off anagramming it."

Harry had to resist the urge to laugh at hearing Voldemort's name in this world. "Who are the wizards then?" he asked.

"Dumbledore is the Great Wizard. He's the most powerful of all of us and the wisest. But he is a bit off his rocker if you don't mind me saying. He lives in the Philosopher's Stone City."

"This is all lovely but I'd really better get back to my school, Hogwarts. I'm missing all my classes, do you know the way?" Harry asked. He had had enough of these crazies and was surprised to find himself wishing he was in _potions class_ right now. Was anything sacred? The Good Witch was about to answer when a House Elf squealed and pointed at where the Wicked Witches legs were formerly poking out. Now all that remained were her *~*~_awesome_~*~* sneakers and a pile of dust.

"Those sneakers are yours now, but they must be obtained through magic seeing as the Wicked Witch had some sort of enchantment put on them. I'm not sure what it was but it could be very dangerous, so be careful. Allow me." Hermione began to recite an incantation.

"_Snake-skin sneakers, sneakers great_

_Leave the feet of she who's late_

_With the power of all that's merry_

_Grace the feet of the one named Harry"_

Absolutely nothing happened.

"Absolutely nothing happened...," Harry said.

"Well of course nothing happened, that's not a _**real**_ spell, is it?"

Harry could only wonder why she had bothered with the incantation if it wasn't an actual spell in the first place.

"Accio sneakers," said Hermione, flicking her wand. The sneakers flew over to her and she caught them and handed them to Harry. Harry, totally enchanted by their snake-skin and *~*~_awesome_~*~*, took of his own shoes instantly and put them on instead.

"Right so about getting out of here and back to Hogwarts?" he said once the laces were done up tightly. Even though they were originally a woman's pair of shoes, they fit perfectly.

"Is this Hogwarts a civilized place?" Hermione the Good Witch asked.

"Er, well, there are a few trollish Slytherins, but yeah, I guess," Harry answered.

_ "No, no. Civilized. Like to civilize. _As in _to__ b__ring a place or people to a stage of social, cultural, and moral development considered to be more advanced."_

"Oh, er, well yes then."

"Well this is the Land of Oz, it's never been truly civilized; it's cut off from the rest of the world. That's why there are so few true witches and wizards. There's a great desert to the East, West, South and North that no one has ever been able to cross alive." Hermione said.

Harry was about to ask what the possibilities were of people having crossed the desert and just didn't come back were, or perhaps be a smart-ass and ask about Southwest or Northeast but he was interrupted by the Good Witch's continuations.

"But you could always stay here and be the secretary of the S.P.E.W.. We're rather short on members, you see. I was originally going to name it Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status, but S.O.A.O.F.M.C.C.C.T.L.S. didn't fit on the badges so that's just the heading of our manifesto."

Harry was stricken with a sudden bout of homesickness. Never see Hogwarts again? Sure this place was better than the Dursley's place, but Hogwarts was his _**true**_ home. He turned very red trying not to cry. Hermione heaved a sigh.

"Oh all right, I suppose I might be able to do something."

Hermione the Good Witch pulled a crimson red envelope out of her overstuffed book-bag. It started to steam and smoulder until if finally ripped open and screamed loudly, **"LET HARRY POTTER GO TO THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE CITY!!!" **It then tore itself up and floated away in the slight breeze.

"Well that's that, perhaps Dumbledore will help you. He's a great wizard, although I've never seen him. The city is in the centre of the country and it's a long journey that you'll have to walk. Just follow the Golden Road and you'll get there eventually. Unfortunately it's rather dangerous sometimes and I can't go with you, but I can give you this S.P.E.W. badge so magical creatures will know you support their rights and will lend you a hand if you need one."

"Ok, thanks I guess," Harry said, accepting the obnoxiously coloured badge.

"You're welcome, I usually charge two sickles for those," Hermione said, and then disappeared with a crack. Hedwig ruffled her feathers, unnerved by the sudden departure, but Harry had expected her to disappear in exactly that way.

After the House Elves bid him a cheery and encouraging good-bye, Harry set off towards the Philosopher's Stone City.

* * *

Read and Review. Let me know if you see any mistakes and I'll fix them. I read through it a few times already but you never know. I don't own Harry Potter or the Wizard of Oz, etc., etc.. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. **TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS.**


	2. How Harry Saved the Scarecrow

**OH HEY. HAVE I BECOME EVERY FANFIC WRITER I HATE EVER? LET'S FIX THAT.**

**~*~HARRY POTTER AND THE WIZARD OF OZ~*~**

Harry realized now that he probably should've eaten before he left or brought some food with him. All he had was his school bag with contents limited to text books and potions ingredients. He would _not_ be eating any of the potion ingredients. He _considered_ gnawing on a text book. Hedwig was doing quite fine on her own. There were plenty of mice and other small animal prey in the fields on either side of the Golden Road. The poor small animal prey, so confused by the appearance of an owl during the day time. But Hedwig was indeed nocturnal, so Harry had brought her cage with him. When she settled in he had quite the time trying to carry her. Hedwig was less than pleased by this. Harry didn't really care, he was too hungry. And thirsty. Poor Harry added these to his "to-angst about" list. Sort of like a to do list only not written down and more influenced by hormones.

Harry had a number of other grievances and his list was growing. Although it wasn't all thoughts completed well enough to form words, it looked something like this.

**Harry James Potter's To-Angst List #62784**

dead parents

dead godfather

death eaters are out to get me

Voldemort is trying to kill me

my arm hurts, Hedwig is too heavy

I have a wedgie and there's nothing I can do about it because Hedwig is in one hand and my bag is obstructing the other

I'm hungry

I'm thirsty

I still hurt from the house landing

I can't remember what the hell I was doing in the Shrieking Shack

where the hell am I now?

this stupid road is too shiny and it's hurting my eyes

my hair is in my face **AND IT WILL NEVER STAY IN PLACE**

shit, I just rhymed

everything bad happens to me

this is so boring

I wish I were at the Burrow where people actually love me

if I were at the Burrow it'd probably get attacked by one of the many people out to get me

And so on. The only thing Harry was grateful for were his new *~*~_awesome_~*~* snake-skin sneakers, which were keeping his feet quite comfortable. Harry was sure that, with his _luck_, had he worn his own shoes he'd have a **blister on a blister** by now. But he was not pleased by the fact that his robes seemed to match all the houses he walked past. By some freakish coincidence or way overdone trend all the houses, round walls and domed roof, were painted crimson red. Other, better adjusted and less angsty individuals might have found it festive. Or unnerving. But to be Harry Potter was to angst _(see aforementioned list for further evidence.)_ All Harry really wanted to do was to speak in **CAPS LOCK, EXCLAMATION MARK FURY. **Instead he had a stupid quest to fulfil if he ever wanted to get back to Hogwarts.

Towards the end of the day Harry was exhausted and he still had a wedgie. It was amazing that he was still sane. Harry was in the midst of wondering in what bush he would have the misfortune of sleeping in when he came upon a larger house elf's house that was hosting a celebration of some sort. Some of the elves ran towards the perimeter of fence to bow low to Harry. The celebration must have been in honour of the death of the wicked witch and what a pleasure it was for them for _**~THE HARRY POTTER~**_ to walk right past the house. A few ushered Harry onto the property to join it.

The second he stepped over the shin-high, fence food was shoved down his throat. It was very much a case of be careful what you wish for. Harry would look back at this moment and be amazed that he managed not to choke. At the present time he only made a mental note to thank Mrs. Weasley for preparing him for this sort of event. And once the food started to come at a slower pace and butterbeer was included in the mix, Harry _almost sort-of_ began to enjoy himself. If it weren't for the four drunken house elves that took it upon themselves to supply the party with music by singing, he would be _sort-of_ enjoying himself.

The house elf that owned the house was particularly glued to Harry, yet still somehow managed to make food and drink appear in front of Harry's face; no matter how far away from the refreshment table they were. His name was Dobby.

"You must be being a great sorcerer, sir," he said.

"Hmmphhhnggg?" Harry asked through a mouthful of cauldron cake.

"Because you wear the snake-skin sneakers, sir. And you wear gold, the colour of good witches and wizards, sir."

"*~*~_A__wesome_~*~* snake-skin sneakers," Harry corrected, "And these are my school robes. They're black with crimson and gold trim."

"It is very kind of you to wear that, sir. Crimson is the colour of the house elves, good sir," Dobby said.

Harry chose to ignore the fact that he was still wearing mostly black, which probably didn't represent house elves or good wizards, and went along with it. That and his mouth was still full. The argument wouldn't make it past "Hdmmpphh" or "Mmmmphggg", _as strongly worded as that would have been._ Besides, he **was** a wizard and he **had** saved the house elves (no matter how accidental and illogical of a rescue it was).

When Harry had eaten himself into exhaustion and Hedwig had flown off to do owly things, Dobby brought him inside to the guest room. And although the house itself was human sized, it was _quite obvious_ the bed was not. Harry improvised and used the mattress as a pillow and slept on the floor. It was all rather unfortunate. All the same, Harry eventually fell asleep and dreamt of Voldemort attacking him with delicious cakes and deadly crumpets and such and such.

The morning was very much a repeat of the evening before, only the cakes were replaced with toast and the butterbeer with pumpkin juice. When Harry felt that he could get away with opening his mouth without have food shoved in, he asked Dobby a question.

"How far is it to the Philosopher's City?"

"Pardon me, sir, but I do not know, sir." Dobby's answer was an apologetic wail. He began to eye the oven. "I have never been there, sir. It is a long way, I know that. It will take you many days, sir, and not all the places you will pass through will be as friendly as this. Perhaps sir, it is best you stay here."

Harry shook his head. He need to get back to Hogwarts and the great wizard Dumbledore was the only person who could help. Hogwarts was his **home**, after-all. Besides, if he stayed here he'd eternally have indigestion. He had enough things to angst about (again, see aforementioned list.) No, Harry put Hedwig back in her cage and bade the house elf good-bye. And just as he left, a rogue bludger came hurling at him. Harry ducked and pulled out his _wand_.

"**Finite Incantatem!**"

'_Odd that I'd use that spell'_, Harry though, '_It's meant to __remove the effects of any other spells that have been cast__, not destroy things_.' Then the bludger hit him in the arm.

"Holy jesus, MOTHER OF PEARL!" Harry exclaimed. The blow had forced him to drop Hedwig's cage and she had sworn in exactly the same way, just in Owlese and not English or any other human language. The pain in Harry's arm was excruciating and the bludger, having zoomed off, was turning back towards him.

"Reducto!" Harry yelled, this time using what was probably the correct spell.

This time the rogue and random bludger exploded into bitty bits of bludger, very similar to the type of shrapnel that gouges your eyes out. Luckily, Harry ducked and covered his face with his good arm. Shards of bludger embedded themselves into his sleeve, but did not puncture skin. Not that Harry would have noticed, his "to-angst list" had now been reduced to:

**Harry James Potter's To-Angst List #62796**

**HOLY CRAP, MY ARM HURTS**

It was almost peaceful.

Harry pointed his wand to his arm and cast "episkey." His arm had not quite been injured into breaking, the bludger having caught it at a preferable angle. Well, _more_ preferable of an angle than no angle at all.

"_Bloody hell_, you have some mad dodging skills, don't you?"

Harry spun around, trying to find who had spoken. The voice lacked the peculiar pitch of a house elf, so Harry was looking for someone his size.

"Up here a bit."

Harry adjusted his line of vision and saw a scarecrow hanging off a pole in the field adjacent to him.

"I'd like to have seen you do better," Harry said.

"Well I wouldn't have had to, would I? I'm made of straw, I can't get injured by bludgeoning. Think you can get me down from here?"

The scarecrow wriggled on his pole, trying to determine exactly how he was attached so he could free himself. For a moment, Harry considered leaving the scarecrow to his own devices but came to the conclusion he could use any vaguely human companionship he could get. This scarecrow was certainly better than some house elf.

Harry went around the back of the pole to find the knots holding the scarecrow in place. After untying them, the scarecrow was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. They way he landed would have injured him if it could have.

"Thanks for that, mate," he said. "Funny looking stick you have there, I have one too."

The scarecrow pulled a wand out of its back pocket and waved it around. Harry ducked whenever it was pointed remotely close to him.

"Watch it. That's a wand. You could blow my head off if you're not careful."

"Oh, right. Knew that. Sorry. The name's Ron by the way. Who are you?"

After a life of fame for first banishing Voldemort and then; for a shorter period of time; killing a wicked witch, Harry was offended by the lack of recognition. Despite both instances of heroism being complete flukes and lacked _**any**_ expended effort on Harry's part.

"I'm Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Angsty Teenager Who Just Killed The Wicked Witch Of The East," he said, puffing out his chest.

"That last title's a bit less catchy than the first. Is there something wrong with your chest?"

Harry deflated slightly. Choosing to ignore Ron's question, he asked one of his own.

"Do you know where the Philosopher's Stone City is?"

"The what? I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't have a brain you see. Nothing I can do about it, watch."

Ron waved his wand and said, "**ACCIO BRAINS**."

Nothing happened.

"See?"

Harry sighed.

"All right, you better come with me. The great wizard Dumbledore might be able to get you a brain or something. "

"Sounds good, have nothing better to do, should I carry that owl for you? I don't get tired and I hardly think your arm's up to it after that injury."

Harry was at least grateful for this. It even took some items off his reformed "to-angst list." Many things had been added to it after his arm had stopped distracting him. Now he wouldn't have to worry about having eternal wedgies.

"Yes, thank you. That would be helpful."

Ron picked Hedwig's cage up off the ground. Hedwig was extremely peeved at having been left side-ways this whole time and tried to peck at him through her bars. (May she have mercy on Harry's face upon her release at night-time.)

"Hmm, violent, isn't it? Oh well, there's only one thing I'm afraid of anyway."

"Spiders?" Harry guessed on a whim.

"Well, two things I guess. But I was going for fire."

* * *

HOLY CRIPES, WHAT IS THIS? AN UPDATE? REALLY? WOW. YOU LUCKY DUCKS.

Enough with the caps. Thanks for all two of the reviews. You guys rock, don't ever change.

P.S. Sylvie-morose, that idea smells more like the most epic Mary Poppins crossover of all time to me. Oooh man.


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